


Red Strings Attached

by JackShit



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Drug Use, F/M, Good siblings, Klaus is his own warning so, Lupo from the comics!, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Police Academy, Serial Killers, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackShit/pseuds/JackShit
Summary: Diego is twenty years old and a new student at the police academy.Between trying to escape his siblings and his father and pushing away this feeling of being stuck, it's getting hard for him to sit still in his new life.It only gets worse when he starts to believe a string of murders are related. And, oh yeah, his siblings might be involved.It's only a matter of time before something really bad happens, and Diego finds he can't wait for the police to sort it out.--This is the story of how Diego fell in love, tried to solve a murder, and got kicked out of the police academy.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Red Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck story titles.  
> Hope ya'll are doing okay with isolation, here's some TUA.  
> Stay safe  
> -Jack

Diego is thrumming with excitement. Or dread. He has, after all, just jumped from one academy to another. And maybe one hell to another, but he really hopes not.

He shoulders his bag and tries to stand up straight before he enters the building for his first course.

The building is big, modern, and intimidating. Diego dutifully reminds himself how much worse he’s endured, and that this is just some stupid anxiety over meeting new people and having to talk to them. Over trying to be normal, for once.

As he walks around, though, he becomes increasingly grateful for the building looking nothing like his childhood home. Fresh start, and all. 

He’s twenty, and his job at the gym has finally been able to pay for his education here. Three years of hard work just to get into the building.

Checking again his paper with the room number, he frowns, glancing around the hallway he’s in.

And in his brain, he counts the countless break ins and undercover missions he’s endured over the years. His trained ability to know where exactly to go to get the job done. Sneaking through vents and hallways and just knowing the direction, feeling it.

Well, he must be losing his touch, because he’s lost.

Thankfully, a woman he can only describe as an absolute angel is heading toward him right now.

“Hey,” he turns and shouts at her. She’s pretty, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She turns, watching him warily, and he clears his throat from the awkwardness, “I’m trying to find a room.”

The woman nods and takes the paper from him, “well, looks like we’re headed to the same place,” she smiles, and Diego melts. She sticks her hand out, “I’m Eudora Patch.”

He shakes it, “Diego.”

If she thinks him not giving a last name while she did is weird, she doesn’t say anything. The start walking in the opposite direction Diego was planning on going. His brain starts making up a slew of conversation starters.

_ So, gorgeous, what brings you here? _

_ You’re studying to be a cop too, eh? Why? _

_ Thanks for helping me out. I should be better at this, being a child soldier and all. _

Yeah, so he stays silent.

A few hallways pass, and she tips her head at him, smiling, “not a big talker, are you?”

He shrugs, and that should be answer enough. He opens his mouth anyway, “yeah, well. I’m still getting used to all of-” he gestures vaguely around him, “this.”

“It’s pretty overwhelming,” she nods, “I get it.”

Diego thinks he’s in love.

“What about you?” He asks. Then, realizing that the question doesn't have much context, he stumbles a bit to clarify. She stops him to answer. She gets it.

“My dad was a cop, so I suppose I’m used to this. He brought me here a lot,” they stop in front of the room. “Ready?”

He takes a breath. He doesn’t need butterflies right now. And definitely not the butterflies Eudora is giving him right now.

So he grins, sharp and confident, “more than ready.”

Yeah. Yeah, he feels more than ready, this time. It’s something he really wants, and he’s finally allowed to go for it.

“Great,” Eudora smiles again, and it’s a lot more convincing than his, “let’s partner up, then.”

He’s taken by surprise when she grabs his arm and leads him into the classroom. They’re among the first people there, and Diego silently thanks whatever God or gods exist that he decided to come early.

Slowly, the class fills up with bright-eyed, bushy-tailed hopefuls. Diego notes that none of them look weathered like he is, but he backtracks that thought just as quickly. He’s normal, that’s it. He needs to blend in.

A man in uniform stands at the front, holding a clipboard and eyeing all of them menacingly. 

“Roll call!” He shouts, unnecessarily, and starts rambling off names. The students shout back ‘here!’ after they’re called. Diego knows, distantly, that this is the sort of thing schools do. But he never went to school, so.

“Hargreeves!” The man zeroes in right on Diego.

“Here!” He says, ignoring the uncomfortable gaze of his instructor. There is no way this man should know who he was, but it puts him on edge anyway. He maintains eye contact for what feels like a full minute, but could have only been a second. When the next name is called, Diego almost lets out a sigh of relief. Eudora spares him a concerned glance, but he ignores it. 

He can’t afford to be recognized. Reginald Hargreeves is famous, after all. But there must be thousands of Hargreeves’, right? It can’t be that uncommon of a name.

Fuck, he should have changed it on his documents. Just to be safe.

The session starts, and he thinks he might be a little bit paranoid.

The instructor, police Captain Colin Jones, pulls up a projected presentation and starts giving them the run-through of what the courses are to look like.

“At the end of this session,” he says angrily (why does he sound so angry?), “you will be given your time tables. If you will be staying in residence, you will have the lunch hour and your spare block to find your dorms.”

Excited chatter breaks out, and Diego looks around, incredulous. If him and his siblings were to do that in class, well. Reginald certainly wouldn’t let out a rough laugh before shushing them like Captain Jones.

In fact, Diego starts to think that he’s not talking angrily at all. He’s just loud, stern. Not angry. 

Maybe he’s just used to Reginald’s indifference. 

The class is  _ fun.  _ It’s not terribly interesting, but Diego thinks that will come with time. He actually takes notes, something he never did under Reginald. He pays attention. He, after getting over (sort of) the initial fear, laughs along with the others. 

It’s good. 

“What do you have next?” Eudora asks him when the class ends.

He looks carefully at the blue and yellow time table, “um. Nothing. A spare.”

She reads it over his shoulder, “hey, we have the last class together.”

His heart soars, but he only nods and makes a contemplative hum. 

“Do you have a dorm?” She asks, and they start walking to her class.

“Nah,” he says, “I have my own place.”

She raises a brow, “seriously?”

He turns to her, defensive suddenly, feeling judged, “that a problem?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I just don’t understand how you’re paying for it.”

Well, my father is a billionaire, and while I used to live in a mansion, I actually am now financially struggling after saving money since fourteen. But really, skipping meals for days is better than living at home.

He doesn’t say that.

He shrugs, “I have a good job, been saving for a while now. What about you?”

“I live at home,” she says slowly, and either she doesn’t want to tell him something or she’s trying to analyze what he just said, “and my parents have been saving for education for a while.”

“You have a job?” He asks.

Eudora snorts and looks down, “if you can call it that. I work at a daycare.”

Diego frowns, “that’s still a job.”

“They don’t pay very well,” she hums to herself as they stop in front of the gym. She gestures for him to give her his arm. Obliging, Diego watches as she writes down a number in dark blue pen and scratchy, but neat, writing.

His abashed, flustered expression makes her laugh. “You look like you need a foothold,” she says, “we’re partners, right?”

And with that she sashays off into the gym. Diego is pretty sure he’s frozen in place, so it’s probably good that he doesn’t have a class right now.

The very first day of school, and he’s got a goddamn crush.

<><><><><><><>

He wanders around until after lunch, for his second class of the day. It isn’t like he’s brought anything to do (other than his phone, but it’s a flip phone, so the most interesting thing on there is Eudora’s number) and he doesn’t have a lunch, either. 

He seeks out his class early, in case he gets lost again, but finds it to be in the same gym where he left Eudora earlier.

Physical training, Diego expects, should be a breeze.

The start of the class has them all cross-legged in a circle in the middle of the gym. The instructor lords over them, whistle around his thick neck. His blond hair is cropped military style, and he paces back and forth with pure, arrogant, confidence.

Diego is put to mind of Luther, and tries to shoo the image from his brain. He doesn’t need to start disliking the man right away.

There’s a roll call here as well, but this time, when Diego answers to his last name, he feels a set of eyes on him. He glances around, but no one is staring at him. 

Weird.

“Alright, listen up!” The man yells, “my name is Captain Roger Faris, and I’ll be your fitness and practical teacher for the next two months. Captain Simmons will be your regular teacher after that. Understood?”

A variety of ‘yes sir!’s ring around the room, and Diego finds himself joining in.

This feels familiar, and not in a good, nostalgic sense.

“Starting with a warm up!” Faris stares them down, “quickly stretch and then laps! Go!”

Diego frowns. That’s it? Just laps?

He stands with everyone else and begins stretching. This is familiar too.

He looks around the room at his peers. Some of them look like they’ve never held a gun in their lives. Some of them look like they’ve never  _ seen _ a gun.

When the time’s up for stretches, Diego’s almost bored. 

When they start actually running, he discovers that he  _ is  _ actually bored. 

Because here’s the thing- Diego has a peculiar subset to his powers, one discovered in bath time as a child.

He doesn’t need to breathe.

And for all Reginald’s testing, there was only one limitation to it.

And running without running out of breath definitely is not it.

So by the end of the session, the worst that happens is his legs being a little sore, and he’s not panting like everyone else.

A moment passes where he considers faking it, just to seem normal. But no one’s looking at him strangely, so he doesn’t.

“Next class we start defense training!” Faris shouts at them when they start piling into the change rooms.

Diego snickers. Beginner shit, really. He’s been blocking hits since before he learned how to walk. Some guy beside him spares a glace, but Diego pays it no mind.

He thought this would be a challenge for fuck’s sake.

“Hey,” the guy who had been staring at him nods, “Hargreeves, right?”

“Any relation to the billionaire?” Another guy asks.

Diego freezes, “nah, no relation.”

The first guy extends a hand, “I’m Matt.”

He takes it, “Diego.”

“Man, you barely broke a sweat out there. I’m impressed,” the second guy butts in, “you take shit?”

“What?” Diego asks, genuinely offended, “no.”

Matt stops him, “don’t mind Louie here, we were just curious.”

Oh, so they think he’s an Umbrella kid.

Shit. 

“Curious,” he repeats dumbly.

“Yeah, you know,” Louie grins like a shark, “superpowers and shit.”

Diego forces himself to bark out a laugh, glancing at Matt like he’s making sure he’s really hearing this, “right. Like those Umbrella kids? And who do you think  _ I  _ am.”

Louie and Matt look uncomfortable. “Uh, well. You know, one of the kid’s names was Diego, like, the Horror or something?”

_ No. That was my brother, you ass hat- _

“Well that ain’t me,” Diego sighs, “would be nice, though.”

Some guy listening behind them snorts, “what? Wasn’t that guy being investigated for child abuse?”

Yeah. Yeah, that did happen. The seven of them had to sit in a room answering question after question. Reginald had, naturally, prepared them for it. The bastard probably knew it was coming, sooner or later, and he wouldn’t stand to lose his precious world-saving experiments.

“Was he?” Diego asks no one in particular.

After that, they all go back to changing, and hopefully this will be forgotten.

<><><><><><><>

Eudora sits beside him, but wrinkles her nose as soon as she does.

“Did you have to run laps too?”

“What?” He asks, mock smelling his armpit, “too pungent?” 

She laughs, but is cut off by the instructor starting the class. Diego hides his own smile.

“Hello, class,” he starts, “today, since it is the first of many days, we will be starting simple. Blood splatter!”

They all look at him with wide, startled eyes as he starts the presentation at the front, which features a stock photo of blood covering kitchen cabinets. 

Eudora doesn’t look impressed, Diego notices. Her lips are tightly pressed and she’s tapping her pencil on her notebook expectantly.

The professor, who has yet to introduce himself, switches the slide to three huge blocks of paragraphs that Diego can hardly read.

“Copy!” He instructs.

“Jesus,” Diego mutters, taking out his pencil and scribbling the notes as fast as he can.

Eudora is doing the same, and it’s kinda cute, the way her eyebrows furrow in concentration. 

The two of them finish first.

“Who is this guy?” Diego whispers to her, putting down his pencil.

“Retired Police Inspector Lupo,” she murmurs back, not even looking up, “he’s a friend of my mother.”

“Like your weird uncle,” he grins at her. 

She nods seriously, “exactly.”

The rest of the class is a strange mash of ridiculously long notes and obscure images of blood stains from both crimes scenes and the internet. It has Diego sniggering behind his hand, and Eudora hitting it away, chiding him for not paying attention.

It’s a good class. 

All of the classes he has with Eudora are good.

They walk out of the building together.

“You heading home now?” He asks.

She checks her watch, “yeah, home for dinner. You know.”

Boy, does he know, “sure.”

“See you tomorrow, Diego,” she waves and walks off, getting into a car parked on the side of the road.

“Yeah,” he says, distantly, “see you.”

It’s a long walk to his apartment, since he doesn’t have a car right now. He’s planning on saving up soon, when he's more stable and has a job.

He’s in a bit of a hole at the moment.

But it’s fine, he thinks, unlocking the door to his apartment, things are looking up. Finally.

His room is sparse, old, and sad looking. It has three rooms, barely separated by thin and peeling walls. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. 

Sighing, he throws his bag onto the kitchen table, checking his phone. 

Two calls.

Diego frowns. Clicks to hear voicemail. 

_ “Heyyyy, Diego! It’s… it’s me. Look, I got into a sort of, um. Problem. Can I crash with you?” _

Right. Klaus. He called about an hour ago, and there’s no sign of him. 

Diego deletes the message. Maybe it’s selfish, but he’s trying to start new. And Klaus, is, well. 

He’s someone Diego can’t associate with right now, however harsh that sounds.

Right. Second message.

_ “Hi, Diego. It’s Vanya. I haven’t seen you for a few months, but I wanted to see if you’d want to go for coffee? Call me back.” _

Bold of her, to reach out first. She never does. Maybe moving out was good for her, like it was for him. She only moved out last year, after all. Less impatient than he was about it, and he openly admired her new place, which is a lot nicer, cleaner than his is.

And, well, Vanya is nice to be around. No need to talk, no expectations. And she’s not a drug addict after his money and other possessions. 

He calls her number, and it rings a few times before she picks up.

“Hello?” She answers, voice as flat as ever.

“Sound more excited that I called, why don’t you,” he jokes.

“Oh! Diego. I didn’t think you’d call back.”

His heart cramps. Why not? “How does Saturday at noon sound?”

He can almost see her smiling, “coffee, that’s right. Sounds good. Cafe on third?”

“See you then,” he says, and hangs up. Great, now he has to go places on his weekend off. No work, no school, just trying to ignore a fucked up childhood with his adopted sister

Then again, it’s probably good to get Vanya out of the house. Knowing her, she probably hasn’t left for anything except groceries.

His phone rings again. Upon seeing the number, Diego flops down on his bed before picking up.

“Yes?”

“Hey! You picked up, thank God.”

“What do you want, Klaus?” Diego snaps.

He laughs quietly, like he doesn’t want to be heard, because Klaus almost never does anything quietly. “Don’t worry, _mio_ _fratello_ , I don’t want money. Just to crash for a bit? Pretty please?”

Diego groans, “Klaus-”

“Great! Thanks,” Klaus yaps, “look, I have to go but- yeah I’ll see you in a few days.”

“A few days?” Diego sits up, “Klaus, what-”

He hung up.

Bastard.

He probably wasn’t after money, then. Klaus doesn’t know he needs it until he’s out, so it’s not like this is him planning ahead.

“Shit,” he says, to no one in particular. Klaus has a way of worming himself and his problems into other people’s spaces, and now Diego is starting to regret giving him an address for emergencies.

Is this an emergency?

Probably not. He’s just being dramatic, and it wouldn’t be the first time.

Diego tries to forget about it and goes to make himself a dinner of bread and cheese.

<><><><><><><>

The days at the academy pass easily, and easier yet with Eudora with him. It’s a far cry from his life at the Umbrella Academy, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being thankful for that.

Saturday hits him in the face when he remembers he promised Vanya coffee.

He checks the clock beside his bed. 

_ 11:52 _ _ AM  _

“Shit!” Diego sits up quickly, tilting dangerously to the left before he can stand up without being dizzy. He throws on a random shirt with pants that have mud on them, grabs his wallet and shoes and bolts out the door.

It’s a thirty minute walk to get to the cafe. He should call Vanya.

He didn’t bring his fucking phone.

Christ, well it’s too late to go back now, isn’t it?

He runs.

<><><><><><><>

Twenty-five minutes of alternating between jogging and flat out running, Diego arrives at third street. He slows to a stop before reaching the cafe.

He hopes she’s still there.

Diego pushes open the cafe door hesitantly, praying that Vanya hasn’t left yet.

He looks around the cozy, blue and white booths.

Oh, thank fuck.

Diego slides in across from Vanya at the back of the cafe, and she looks up, startled.

“You came,” she sounds surprised, which, fair. “You’re late.”

He shrugs, leaning back and putting up his hands in surrender, “I would have called, but I left my phone.”

Her hands fidget uncomfortably on the table, but she’s smiling, “I would have too, but I only got here five minutes ago.”

He stares at her, she puts her hands up in defeat, mocking him.

They dissolve into laughter.

A waiter makes his way over to them, “can I get you two something?” He asks, eyes flicking between them.

Diego, who has no idea what’s on the menu, orders black coffee.

“And for your date?” He smiles, looking at Vanya.

Vanya, who had already ordered water and was in the middle of a sip, snorts and chokes hard enough to spill on the table. She starts coughing, and waves at Diego to answer for her.

“My  _ sister, _ ” he grins up at the waiter’s abashed expression, “would like the sweetest coffee you have, please.”

“It’ll be right out,” he stumbles, and speed walks away.

Diego shoots a concerned look at Vanya, who’s still choking, laughing with her face in her hands.

“Don’t make me use the Heimlich maneuver,” he says nonchalantly, making her laugh harder. Eventually, after a few looks from other patrons, Vanya calms down.

“Sorry,” she tells him, breathless, “that was embarrassing.”

“Yeah, for him,” Diego nods at the waiter bringing them their coffees.

They thank him, and he scurries off to serve other tables.

“So what have you been up to, sister?” Diego asks her, drinking deeply from his cup.

“Oh, well. I’ve actually started teaching violin. And I have an orchestra audition next week,” Vanya sips from her own coffee. “But that’s about it.”

Diego doesn’t know anything about the violin, but it does sound exciting.

“Good to hear,” raises his cup to her.

“What about you?”

He grins proudly, “I’m enjoying my shitty apartment. And, oh, the police academy.”

She looks up, eyes wide, “holy shit, you got in?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No, I’m not. Just. I’m happy for you, Diego.”

He raises his empty cup again, “here’s to the biggest ‘fuck you’ to dad we can manage.”

She clinks her glass to his, “what? Living well?”

“Living well,” he agrees. 


End file.
